Untitled

26F

[shhhsecretsideblog]

"And in other news, it looks like it might be a white Christmas after all this year, Kay has more with the weather," "Back live in 45 seconds!" a voice chimes in the background. I throw my fake notes to the side and reach out under the desk to grab your knee. "How are you doing? Are you ok?!" I whisper. "hoooo, y..yeah.. yeah.. no," you reply with sweat visibly beading up across your brow, gritted teeth and a cast iron grip on your cue cards. "ughhhh, the pressure.. oh my god. It's building fast.." "Oh my god, I can't believe you talked me into this. We have three more segments live at the desk and then we're cutting live to the PM to finish the show. We have to call this off, our baby can't arrive on Live TV.." "nhuuuuuuurghhhhh, n—NO! Not yet, close out the show, then we go to the hospital.. it's not far..." "Oh my god, this is crazy, we're back in.. 20 seconds! Right, fine. It's too late now anyway, lets get through these 8 minutes and then DASH across the road."

"Yeah, easy hoooo, nothing too it, just 8 more minutes to hold....Oooooon! Ughhhhhh NO NO NOPE. IMPOSSIBLE. I Can't. I can't do it, this baby is coming right NOW!" "EIGHT!" "SEVEN!" "SIX!" "No no no. Too late, we're going live right now," I whisper, watching your panicked grimace strain into a a professional newsreader smile. "we're committed now, stay calm, stay professional, and do.not.push!" The floor manager holds up four fingers next to the camera. Then three, then two, then one.

“W-Welcome back. T-thanks K-Kay for the weather report.” I stuttered. The contraction still held me in its vice, my bump now a solid rock beneath the table. It took all my willpower to keep my breathing steady and words even, my smiling expression forced for the camera. I gripped the table, knuckles white as the wave peaked and I couldn’t help but part my knees a little more under the desk.

The next segment was a lifestyle one, some new kitchen aid gadget had been released and one of our regular tv personality’s had brought it in for a demonstration. Mercifully it wasn’t scripted and you took the lead in asking all the questions. It was a good thing too because the contractions were now almost on top of one another.

As the guest was running through a full demonstration to both us and the camera I felt another surge of pressure. My legs shot apart beneath the desk, my knee colliding with yours and you gave me a look. Don’t push your eyes screamed.

I leant forward on my stupidly high bar stool where we were hosting, resting on elbow on the desk while my other hand clutched my contracting womb. My face ached from the forced feigned smile of interest at the fancy new appliance. I wasn’t listening, I couldn’t. I was panting under my breath hoping to god it wasn’t being picked up on my the microphones.

Four minutes… five minutes… this segment felt like it was lasting an eternity. The pressure was relentless; no break, no gaps between, just a steady urgency gathering speed with every squeeze of my muscles.

The producer whispered in my ear “Are you okay?” Having noticed my silence all segment. I gave the smallest of nods, but I was far from alright.

The thought of pushing had rapidly transformed from a desire to a primal need. It was unwavering and absolute. You were speaking with the guest presenter when I gave that first testing push - only a small one, no real strength behind it, but I couldn’t NOT push anymore. The boulder of our baby’s head was so low, grinding and pressing against my cervix, my muscles clenched automatically around it and I beared down steadily.

God it felt good to push. Holding back had become excruciating and the relief of actually bearing down was almost euphoric.

With the next two contractions I was pushing. Legs wide under the table, fingers clawing at the edge of the desk, I pushed hard towards the cushion of my seat. You didn’t notice at first. I was beside you, sweating but still smiling professionally in front of the camera. No one knowing that with my clenched teeth I was actively pushing. But when the segment was over and we had to return to the autocue script, that was when you noticed.

“N-Next up… ughhhh… we have an—oh god— exclusive interview w-with one of the w-winners at last night’s L-Logie Awards—nnnghhh…”

My words were obviously strained, my breathing heavy as I tried to stop my body pushing but by the end of the sentence I was bearing down automatically. I gripped your hand, squeezing tight, a silent plea for you not to announce what was happening while we were live on air.

Producers were shouting in my earpiece, camera operators were peering around the lenses with questioning and concerned looks. Another grunting push happened before I could stop it and I didn’t hear you announce the unplanned commercial break.

“We’re taking you to hospital babe, now.” You said standing from the stool and wrapping an arm around me.

“N-No… I’m f-fine… I can h-hold it…” I tried to say but the guttural pushing sound coming from deep in my chest begged to differ.

“For fucks sake. Darling you’re pushing, we need to get you out of here now.”

You guided me off of the chair and the second my high heels met the floor the change in gravity shifted inside my womb and the dam suddenly broke. Fluid pooled on the hardwood floor with a splash and I gasped at the sudden release of pressure.

“M-my waters…”

“Yes… baby is coming. Now let’s go.”

But the release of amniotic fluid allowed the baby to drop further and I bent over gripping the tall desk. “Ohhhhh god… it’s coming… I can’t m-move… I need… I need to push….” I cried out.

My stance widened as far as my pencil skirt allowed and leaning against the table I gave an almighty guttural push. Immediately I felt the head breach my cervix and slide low into the birth canal, pressing dangerously close to the outside world.

“Shit…. I think I can feel the head?…”

[shhhsecretsideblog]

We’re on an overnight flight when I tell you not to push. The other passengers are sleeping soundly, and besides, there’s only two hours left. It would be so rude to wake them, and you’d hate to have your baby here, wouldn’t you?

Besides, the seat was much too narrow for you to part your knees in the slightest, and your seatbelt pinned your aching hips in place. Your overfull womb was forced to rest upon your lap, occupying every available inch of space when it normally would have demanded your legs to part to accommodate. It made it hard to breathe. A contraction overtook you like a wave, your gravid stomach forcing inward, and you took the extra inch of room in the seatbelt to lean back, desperate to relieve even a fraction of the pressure between your legs. The baby’s head was all too eager to take the opportunity to grind down fiercely, causing friction in your most sensitive areas while you squirmed.

You gasped when the contraction released, and fought to catch your breath, but it still felt as if there with a relentless bowling ball trying to escape you, spreading you wider than you could afford to move. There’s a slight bit of turbulence, bouncing you and your stretching lips against the seat, causing you to whimper and squirm against the pressure, wordlessly pleading for anything but this to be happening. The seatbelt light dings above, and I look at you, a finger to my lips while I advise your silence. My hands find your seatbelt and tighten it ever so slightly. We wouldn’t anything happening to you.

I grip the armrests, knuckles turning white, as you tighten my seatbelt over my full and contracting belly. Your hand moves over the swell, caressing it fondly, feeling the rock solid muscles beneath your palm. You’re calm, relaxed, presenting a casual appearance of just an average expectant couple on a journey. There isn’t a hint of worry or apprehension in your eyes. If anything it’s enjoyment.

As the contraction peaks I feel the head of our baby shifting lower, filling the bowl of my pelvis with the immeasurable weight of impending life. My legs spring apart automatically around it, my knee crashing into yours while the other hit the wall of the aeroplane beneath the window.

“Ohhhhh god…. It’s so low babe… I don’t… I don’t know if it’s going to w-wait two more h-hours.” I mumble as I tilt my head on your shoulder, panting profusely.

“The seatbelt signs are on darling, we can’t move you now. It’s not safe.” You crooned in my ear. One hand rested on my belly while the other ran your fingers through my hair in a soft comforting manner.

“I feel… like I’m gonna b-burst…. There’s so much pressure….ughhh…” I grunted, the contraction peaking, and with it came the gush of fluids from my waters breaking. My legs were soaking, amniotic fluid now cascading from the seat onto our hand-luggage on the floor.

“Oh dear.” You tutted, and then you moved my thighs together to hide the obvious sight of my labouring being visible to any steward that may walk by. Taking the airline blanket we were given at the start of our long haul journey you covered my legs and tucked the rough material beneath my thighs - keeping them trapped together.

“Mmmhh…no…I can’t…” I huffed out. I swallowed down the moan in my throat that was threatening to escape, scrunching my eyes and panting heavily.

“Yes you can darling.” Your tone was smooth as silk but there was an unfamiliar glint in your eyes. “You don’t want to have this baby here… not in front of all these people.”

Your lips kissed my cheek, absorbing the tears than silently rolled down my face. The baby was so damn low I could feel my pelvis opening up around the large head that was sinking towards the birth canal. Without my waters the cushioning had been replaced by the harsh immeasurable solid shape of our child, heavy and oh so ready to be born.

The screen in front of me showed the map, the little icon of our plane mid-way over the vast expanse of ocean. My chest heaved with each breath, my eyes zeroed in on that little cartoon aeroplane, willing it to travel across the screen faster.

I lasted through two more contractions before my ability to hold it in completely evaporated. Beneath the blanket my knees parted and my hips slumped in the chair, moving purely on instinct. I gasped lungs full of air, and then I pushed. Desperate and primal I focused all my strength right down between my legs, bearing down with a low rumbling grunting sound.

“Ahem… no pushing, remember?” You tutted, pressing my thighs back together and pulling me to sit up straight in the chair.

[wereknightpreg]

Once again I am thinking about a young-ish skinny little prince knocking up the much older, huge and strong captain of the guard who is in charge of his safety.

Obviously the king and queen cannot find out that their precious little boy (he's like... 25) (they are very protective) has been fucking the captain. Breeding him, even. Not that he himself was aware of that fact.

And the captain, well into his forties, hadn't even considered the possiblity.

So he had quite a shock when the little paunch he had turned into a modest beer belly turned into a suspiciously round and hard gut.

Even then, it was the prince who first floated the possibility, while possessively rubbing the swell, no less. It was hard to believe. Looking in the mirror that day, the captain saw a man past his prime whose tough, battle-scarred body had started to soften somewhat.

The prince, chin hooked over his lover's shoulder, saw an unspeakably gorgeous man with biteable thighs, pinchable nipples, and an irresistable layer of dark fur over most of his body, whose lower belly was sticking out in a way that had nothing to do with age or the rich food at every banquet.

Reaching around, he cupped both hands over the captain's womb, thumbs stroking the thickest patch of hair running down from his navel.

He caught the exact moment the eyes in the reflection before him opened wide in realisation.

They should probably have spent the next hours having a serious conversation, but they ended up naked and sweaty instead.

Every now and again, the memory of that afternoon swam into the captain's mind at inopportune times, and it took everything in him not to replay the whole scene slowly until he was in his bed that evening.

He'd never forget half-sitting, half-laying back on the prince's desk, folded in half, legs hooked over the prince's shoulders, clenching around his cock. His belly had been just a bit fat to him this morning. Unchanged, it nonetheless felt heavier now, like all the weight of this new knowledge had settled in his womb.

He distantly felt like he should be more worried, but with the prince taking him more vigorously than ever and breathlessly wondering how good his belly would look in a few months, all he felt was a not unpleasant lightness in his head.

And so he avoided dealing with the problem as long as he could while trying his hardest not to let anything interfere with his duties. Which meant spending a good hour most nights with one hand down his trousers and one feeling his belly.

It had been bliss, until other people started to notice and it became a dangerous secret again. At his wits' end, he decided to take the ancient court wizard into his confidence.

He relayed the whole story without ever mentioning that the lover who knocked him up had been the prince, but there was a twinkle in the wizard's eye that suggested he knew anyway. Other than that, the old man wasn't paying much attention to the whole story, fiddling with the thousand object strewn across his study instead.

Before the captain had reached the end of his story, he threw the scroll he happened to be holding over his shoulder, pushed up his huge sleeves, and told the captain to 'hop up there', after clearing just enough debris off his desk for a pregnant man's ass.

The captain obliged, sheepishly uncovering his (by now) quite obviously gravid belly.

The wizard hovered his hands over the general area for an uncomfortably long amount of time, startling the captain when the weight he'd been carrying suddenly lessened.

On the other side of the kingdom, a stout washerwoman's dress suddenly bulged around the middle.

The captain pressed a hand to his shrunken belly and looked at the wizard in shock and indignation.

'Not what you wanted?' the wizard said, already lifting his hands for another spell.

'It was, I just-'

'Oh, don't worry, that woman and her husband had been wanting a baby for years. Just sit still for a second.'

'What woman? I-'

His hand was pushed outward by his rapidly swelling belly. Within seconds, he was bigger than he had ever been, leaning back with one hand on the desk to balance himself. The other hand stayed where it was, and so confirmed that the sudden fizzing in his belly was palpable from the outside as well. His mouth gaped.

'That's about as big as you would get, I'd estimate. You and the prince enjoy yourselves; be sure to tell him how well I helped you and just think it small whenever you're done. Have to take off now.'

The wizard disappeared in a puff of glittery, purple haze, leaving the captain to contemplate his many vague words.

Think it small?

He tried to imagine himself as he was months ago, and was simultaneously relieved and baffled when his huge belly shrunk to fit his vision.

It was better this way, undoubtedly, but as he walked down the many steps of the wizard's tower, he couldn't help but miss that huge belly.

In one burst, he blew up again, nearly tripping down the stairs.

Hands supporting his new heft, he pictured being the size he'd been when he walked into the wizard's study not a half hour ago, and felt it come true.

Interesting.

The good news was he now had the best of both worlds.

The bad news was the wizard had somehow known how much the prince and he had been enjoying his growing belly.

Tell him how well I helped you, indeed.

That evening, after a lengthy explanation, and a short demonstration, the prince fucked him while they both panted in ecstasy at the feeling of his expanding belly.

A month later, it occurred to the captain to imagine himself with twins, and came instantly when he swelled bigger than ever.

One month after that, the prince had a secret meeting where the wizard was sworn to absolute secrecy as he hovered his hands above the prince's bare belly.

[nature-travel-photography]

Serenity - Author: FeatheredTouch-000

[n3birth]

Hold on!

[italianbirthfetishboy]

DAAAAAMN help me find the video please!!

[mermaidmom22]

[hopefularcadellama]

After his water broke unexpectedly and contractions barrelling down at a rapid rate, Kyle was grappling with the very real possibility of having to deliver his son on the subway with no assistance.

[hopefularcadellama]

As another powerful contraction rips through his pregnant boyfriend Simon, Blair does his best to keep him calm and his breathing regular. The last contraction was ten minutes ago so Blair and Simon know that they will soon be welcoming their first child.

[ilitiaforever]

Ryusui x Ukyo mpreg

There's no limit to the cuteness with this pair, long live Ryusui x Ukyo mpreg!! Drawing them gives me a thousand years of life!

[ilitiaforever]

Commission delivered, happy customer!

[clashdojobellies]

[superdeepsharkcollection2]

[superdeepsharkcollection2]

[dumblilface]

Triplet belly!

[lilly-aurora77]

The Longest Push

The hospital room was small and warm, filled with the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the hushed tones of nurses moving like ghosts around the bed. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain. It was almost four in the morning.

Eleanor gripped the metal rails of the bed until her palms ached. Her whole body shook with the force of each contraction. Sweat ran down her temples and soaked the pillow beneath her head. Her dark hair clung to her skin as if afraid to let go.

She had been in labor for over twenty hours. The early excitement had burned away long ago, leaving only exhaustion and fear.

Dr. Liang stood between her knees, calm but focused. “You’re doing so well, Eleanor. The head is right there, but he’s a big baby. We’re going to take it one push at a time.”

Eleanor nodded weakly. Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “It feels like he’s stuck. I can’t do it.”

Mark, her husband, sat at her side, his face pale. He brushed her damp hair from her forehead. “You can. I know you can. Just one more push.”

The next contraction hit like a wave breaking inside her. Eleanor’s body arched as she pushed with every breath, every muscle straining. The room filled with the sound of her effort, her cries rough and unrestrained.

Dr. Liang looked up at the monitor. “Almost there. But the baby’s head isn’t moving forward.”

Eleanor gasped for air. The pressure was unbearable, like fire pressing downward. Her legs trembled. “What’s happening?” she choked out.

“The baby’s head is too large to pass easily,” Dr. Liang said. Her voice was calm but firm. “We may need to help.”

Eleanor shook her head. “No, I can do it. I just need—” but the next contraction cut her off. She screamed, gripping Mark’s arm until her nails dug into his skin.

Dr. Liang took a deep breath. “Eleanor, listen to me. The baby needs to come out. I’m going to perform a small cut to help him through.”

Eleanor barely understood the words. She only knew that the pressure was too much, that her body felt like it was splitting already. She nodded, tears spilling from her eyes.

There was a blur of movement, voices low but urgent, the cool touch of instruments being prepared. Then came a sharp, bright sting that tore through the haze of exhaustion. Eleanor screamed, the sound raw and desperate. It wasn’t just pain; it was fear, release, and disbelief all at once.

The nurses held her shoulders as Dr. Liang spoke softly, guiding her through it. “Breathe, Eleanor. Just breathe. Now push. Push for me.”

Eleanor drew in a shuddering breath and bore down with everything left in her. The pressure shifted. A rush of warmth. The room filled with shouts of encouragement.

“Good. Keep going. Almost there.”

Eleanor pushed again, her whole body trembling. And then suddenly, the resistance gave way. There was a flood of motion and sound, and the air filled with the sharp, miraculous cry of her baby.

Eleanor collapsed back against the pillow, gasping. Her body shook with exhaustion and adrenaline. She felt the tears streaking down her face before she realized she was crying.

“Eight pounds, fifteen ounces,” a nurse said in disbelief. “Big boy.”

Mark was crying too, his hand trembling as he brushed her cheek. “You did it. He’s here.”

They laid the baby on her chest. He was red and slick and furious, squirming against her skin. She stared at him in wonder. All the pain, all the fear, all the hours of labor seemed to dissolve into the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eleanor pressed her lips to his damp forehead. “Hi,” she whispered. Her voice was rough and quiet. “You were worth every second.”

The doctor and nurses moved quietly in the background, their voices soft. The world had shrunk to the space between mother and child.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The first light of dawn slipped through the window and touched the room with gold. Eleanor closed her eyes, still trembling, and held her son closer. The pain was still there, but now it was something different—something she could bear, something that meant life.

[lilly-aurora77]

The Restroom Birth

The Arizona sun was a physical weight. Ellie shifted in the passenger seat, the seatbelt digging into her distended belly. She was thirty-eight weeks pregnant. The doctor had said a short trip to Sedona was fine.

"I need to stop," she said. "I have to pee."

Ben nodded, his eyes on the road. "Next place I see."

The next place was a gas station called "The Last Stop." It was a low, concrete building with two pumps. Ben pulled up to the pumps. "I'll fill the tank."

Ellie got out and walked to the restroom. The door was marked "Women." The inside was hot and smelled of stale urine and industrial cleaner. The floor was concrete, stained dark in patches. A single fluorescent light flickered overhead.

She used the toilet. As she stood up, a sharp, grinding pain locked around her lower back and pelvis. It was so intense she had to grip the metal stall divider. The pain passed. Then a warm gush of fluid soaked her pants and pooled on the floor between her feet. Her water had broken.

She fumbled for her phone. Her hands were shaking. She called Ben.

He answered. "Yeah? I'm just about done—"

"My water broke," she said, her voice tight. "The baby is coming."

She heard him drop the gas nozzle. "I'm coming in."

Another contraction hit, harder than the first. It felt like her spine was being crushed. She slid down the wall, landing hard on the dirty floor. She couldn't get back up. The pain was a white-hot band around her entire middle, squeezing.

The bathroom door opened. "Ellie?"

"In here," she grunted.

Ben was there, pushing the stall door open. His face was pale. He saw her on the floor, her pants soaked. "Okay," he said. He knelt beside her. "Breathe."

She tried to focus on his face, but another wave of pressure built, overwhelming the pain. It was an involuntary force. Her body was pushing without her consent.

"I have to push," she gasped.

"Wait, no, don't—"

But she couldn't stop it. She bore down, a guttural groan tearing from her throat. The pressure intensified, a burning, stretching sensation.

"I see something!" Ben said. He was looking between her legs, his expression shifting from fear to confusion to horror. "That's… that's not the head. Ellie, those are feet."

She cried out, a mix of pain and terror. Breech. The baby was coming out feet first.

"Push," Ben said, his voice suddenly hard and flat. "You have to push now."

She pushed. The tiny, purple feet emerged fully, then the ankles and legs. They were slick with blood and vernix. Ben's hands were there, guiding, but the baby's body was slippery.

"Again, Ellie, now!" he yelled.

She screamed and pushed. The hips and torso slithered out into Ben's waiting hands. The baby's body was limp, its skin a dusky blue. The head was still inside her. She could feel it stuck, a solid, terrifying obstruction.

"The head is stuck," Ben said, his voice shaking. "You have to push it out. Now, Ellie, or it will die."

She gathered every shred of strength. She pushed with a force that felt like it was splitting her pelvis apart. There was a tearing sensation, a hot rush of blood, and a final, slippery release. The baby's head was out.

Ben held a tiny, completely still infant. It was a girl. She was blue and made no sound.

"She's not breathing," he said. He turned her over, supporting her neck. He wiped blood and mucus from her nose and mouth with his finger. He rubbed her back hard, his movements frantic. "Come on. Breathe."

Nothing.

He gave her a sharp tap on the bottom of her feet.

The baby jerked. A choked gasp, then a weak cry. The cry strengthened into a thin, piercing wail. Her skin began to pink up.

Ben let out a ragged sob. He laid the crying, bloody infant on Ellie's chest. The umbilical cord, a thick, pulsing blue rope, still connected them. The afterbirth hadn't come yet.

The bathroom door opened. The old gas station attendant stood there, his mouth agape. He saw the blood on the floor, the baby, the pale parents.

"Ambulance is coming," he muttered, and quickly left.

Ben took off his shirt and used it to wipe the blood and fluid from the baby. Ellie leaned her head back against the cold wall, exhausted. She was still bleeding. The pain was a deep, throbbing ache. The baby continued to cry, a sharp, alive sound in the grim, stinking room.

Story requested by: Anonymous

[stew-ob-blog]